


like children

by perennials



Series: the hormonal high schooler's guide to falling in love [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, this is weird as hell don't judge me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 08:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6976042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Public displays of affection are against the school rules, you idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like children

**Author's Note:**

> they are like children because they Are Children. way to go me your title doesn't make sense again

"Concept." Gon flashes a cheshire-cat grin. "We are in a raging river, seconds away from being swept away by the current. You are clinging to my hand like your life depends on it; I am clinging to a bow-legged tree branch _because_ our lives depend on it."

 

"Concept," Killua retorts, his voice as sharp as the ironed creases in his collar. "We are three thousand meters above ground level, on the open cargo deck of an airplane. You are screaming at the top of your lungs and falling fast; I am sipping a coke and laughing down at your pathetic, flailing soon-to-be-corpse."

 

"Concept," Gon continues on smoothly as if Killua hasn't just effectively thrown a death threat in his face, stepping forward confidently like a predator closing in on its prey. "The breeze carries you out to sea, and you never come back."

 

"Concept," Killua says stolidly, mid-walk. "You fall off the rooftop landing. No one catches you."

 

"Concept." Gon does not slow his step, instead opting to intrude further into Killua's personal space. "You sleep before midnight more than once every five years, and live a long, fruitful life."

 

"Concept." Killua watches him with barely-concealed wariness. "You actually sleep."

 

"Concept," Gon shrugs his words off, unaffected. "You are good at something besides being perfect."

 

"Concept," Killua counters, slinking backwards and away from the approaching Gon. "You answer a question from the teacher without asking _Kurapika_ for help."

 

"Concept." Gon's eyes glint almost dangerously, moon gold irises flaring in the lazy afternoon glare. "Your brother cares about something other than your grades."

 

"Concept." Killua returns the new-found hostility with his own, a snarl barely visible in the discreet curl of his half-parted lips. "Your dad cares enough to come back."

 

"Concept.” There is a challenging edge to Gon’s smile. "You care enough to try."

 

"Concept." Killua backs away. "You care about yourself."

 

At this Gon lets out a peal of hyena-like laughter, doubling over in abject amusement. This continues on for a full minute, which Killua uses to his advantage, stalking briskly over to the rooftop door while he seems distracted.

 

The word to note here is _seems_ , because it turns out Gon isn't that distracted after all. In the blink of an eye he has the door pressed shut and his back against the flimsy, protesting thing, and arguably Killua could've slipped out in that tiny fraction of a second if he'd thought to try but he doesn't, for reasons unbeknownst to himself. He rolls his eyes at this blatant display of skill (which, coming from the soccer team's star, is no surprise) from where he's leaning gracefully against the balustrade.

 

"Concept," Killua lets out a low whistle, not unappreciatively. "I am not the student council president, and you are a straight-A student with perfect attendance."

 

"Concept. I don't reject every single starry-eyed year two that confesses to me, and you do not watch each confession with bated breath and daggers in your teeth." 

 

The suddenly highly secretive _student council president_ flinches almost imperceptibly, but Gon catches the small movement anyway. Irked and embarrassed and at a loss for what to do (though you'd have to kill him before he admitted this even to himself), Killua drops his gaze, focusing instead on the scuffed ends of his shoes. The thought occurs to him that he should probably get them changed, because there's no way he can walk around in school with anything but perfection in his stride— unfortunately Gon cuts through this train of thought as easily as a knife slicing through cold tofu, and the next thing Killua knows the asshole is right up in his face, again.

 

"C-concept." There is no more space behind him for Killua to retreat towards, unless a pleasant dive down to the hard gravel paving the first floor footpaths is what he has in mind for his ideal lunch break. Gon is pressed flush against his front, the warmth emanating from him bordering on uncomfortable. "You eat your lunch in the canteen, or in class, like a normal person." It's a weak jab, Killua knows, but for all the riveting essays and crowd-winning speeches he's made in front of hundreds, thousands of faceless spectators he cannot muster up enough eloquence with which to formulate a proper comeback to one terribly unformidable sixteen year-old boy.

 

As expected, Gon is wholly unaffected. He leans further in, and Killua notes with visible bitterness the minute (but still existent, nonetheless) vertical distance between their eye-levels. He could’ve sworn that _he_ was still the taller one just last spring. "Concept. Our student council president is immune to the advances of the resident dumb jock." Gon grins that million-dollar red carpet grin at him once more, far too carefree for someone on the verge of committing what would basically amount to murder. At the very least, the onus would be on Gon if he hurled himself over the railing right now, Killua thinks with a strange, childish sort of glee.

 

"Concept," Killua swallows, heat rushing unbidden to his cheeks when he notices the way Gon's eyes have shifted down to his (very vulnerable and very exposed) throat. "You leave me the hell alone and my noodles don't go cold."

 

"Concept. You care more about me than your noodles."

 

"Truth. I care more about my noodles than _you_."

 

"Truth. I care more about you than myself."

 

The two continue to fling vague, meaningless idealizations and half-truths at each other, Gon inching his face closer and closer to Killua's and the latter arching his back to get as far away from him as is possible without tipping over the balustrade. Eventually they reach a point where Killua is backed against an imaginary wall and Gon has him trapped between the aforementioned wall and his own self with no viable escape path whatsoever. Gon chuckles lightly at the sight of the usually sleek and composed Killua bent like a contortionist over the side, his grip on the railing bone-white and his cheeks dusted with a myriad of sunset colors.

 

"Concept." Gon reaches out and ghosts his fingers along Killua's jawline. "Your eyes are green with hidden jealousy."

 

"Concept," replies Killua sardonically in a mock display of confidence, feigning indifference. "Your eyes are red like a mistake, _and_ your future, which is in flames."

 

"Concept. Your lips are softer than the highest-grade silk tuxedo your family owns." Gon sifts a hand over Killua's, which is wrought tight around the metal railing and—

 

"Concept. Yours are dry and chapped and _gross_."

 

—It's a good thing Gon decides to grab his hand at this moment because at _gross_ Killua chokes (once again for unnameable reasons), hard, and with the unexpected motion his body goes slack against the railing, pitching backwards quite unintentionally. Gon moves immediately, yanking hard on Killua's hand and pulling him back onto the landing and straight into his arms.

 

"Concept." Gon knits his eyebrows together. "You stop trying to kill yourself."

 

"Concept." Killua glares pointedly at the half-unbuttoned collar of Gon's shirt. "You stop getting me into situations where I _want_ to kill myself."

 

His cheeks are very, very red, a fact that neither seems unaware of. In fact, Gon jump at the opportunity—

 

"Concept," he breathes, warm breath fanning out along Killua's cheeks. "You are in love with me."

 

"Concept," Killua whispers, having seemingly regained some of his composure and sensibility. _Two can play at this stupid game._ "The feeling is mutual."

 

Gon’s eyebrows shoot up and up and over the moon.

 

-

 

"Concept—"

 

"Can we stop this goddamn farce and get to the k-kissing bit already," Killua grumbles, shifting uncomfortably in Gon’s arms.

 

" _Ohyeahsure_ ," he startles, stops fiddling with the collar of Killua's shirt and leans in, for real this time, with a faint, goofy smile on his lips.

  
Killua sighs, wipes the disgruntled moue off his face, and lets his eyelids slide shut.

**Author's Note:**

> what the fuck is this and what is the state of their relationship exactly???? find out in the next episode of dragon ball z, aka i have no damn idea  
> anyway--  
> actually are they even. what is. why are they like this. why is this like this. where is ging why is he gone what am i  
> thanks for readin. kudos and comments and you reader chap are rad, but comments are like the raddest of them all.
> 
> have a good one


End file.
